Seasons
by o0tyarah0o
Summary: Rachel's death affects more than just the Animorphs. A look at the loss through the eyes of an under-developed character.


Seasons

i. fall

It's late morning and already a crisp autumn breeze is blowing through the memorial park. She shivers, pulling her polyester jacket tight around thin shoulders. Rachel's been gone almost a month, now, and she can't seem to stop crying. It's all the worse that they decided to place the main memorial in Washington, where it's cold and wet and rainy _all_ the time. Oh, there's one back home, of course (she's pretty sure there's one in every state), one made of cheap cement and flat wording engraved into the stone, but this is the only place she can really _feel_ Rachel, can hear her strong voice riding on the winds as they soar.

She sometimes wonders if she's going crazy, just a little. Dead people don't talk. It's a dumb idea, one taken from all those soap operas her mom watches when she's not busy hounding a client. But it's all she's got to go on, because Rachel's dead now and despite all her tears she doesn't really _feel_ anything, just the whispers riding on the winds.

She wonders briefly if she should say something, _anything_ just to break this awful, stale silence, but before her lips can part there's a car honking, a voice calling her name. With a sigh she kicks at the fallen leaves and walks away from Rachel's memorial, wanting desperately to look back but not knowing how.

* * *

ii. winter

The next visit goes much the same way, with people sobbing and wailing about what a great person Rachel was, how strong and caring she had been. And she cries too, but mostly because she's just so _confused_. Her mother takes her hand and she tries not to be uncomfortable with the contact, but soon it becomes too much and she shakes herself free, feeling sick and just a little guilty.

_Rachel wasn't such an amazing person,_ she thinks bitterly. _She took my toys and pulled my hair and called me a baby. _But sill, she stays, long after everyone else has gone. A single snowflake falls, and she catches it with a gloved hand, suddenly realizing just how far she is from home.

And suddenly, it just seems so _unfair._ Rachel was never a hero, just a big meanie who skipped class and argued loudly and caused so much grief for their whole family. Why should she be crying over her? Why should anyone? "You were never there," she whispers, quietly at first, her voice rising as she picks up momentum. "Why weren't you there? You're stupid, ugly, and I- I hate you!" She rages at the top of her lungs, but the chill, winter winds swallow her cries. "I hate you!"

She's on her knees now, forehead pressed against the cool stone. She feels empty, ragged, tired. Broken, maybe, but it's more exhaustion than anything. Her dad finds her there hours later, sleeping restlessly beside her sister's grave. He picks her up and carries her home.

* * *

iii. spring

They don't go to Washington for a long time after that. Her parents begin fighting again, and eventually dad moves out and back to Chicago, back to his old job and his old life. She can't help but feel a little resentful.

It's early spring when they finally return to the memorial stone. Her mom is stiff-lipped and silent, her sister innocently attention-deficit. She blows air through her teeth, shoving pale hands into her jeans pockets. She feels stuck, like she can't move forward and she can't move back, like it doesn't even matter anymore where she's going because nobody cares enough to follow.

She still goes to school, even though her grades have dropped recently (she's not _stupid_), and she's switched counselors, from the cheap one the school made her go to after her parents' divorce to a high-paid psychologist. Nothing's changed.

Her family leaves and suddenly she's speaking her thoughts out loud, slowly at first, then faster, the words tumbling past her lips like a flood of water. Maybe she's stupid, maybe she's crazy, but suddenly she feels higher than she's felt since before Rachel died.

She talks to Rachel, to the blossom-flavoured winds till the sun melts on the horizon and the stars shine brightly in the night sky. No moon tonight, but she doesn't notice.

Eventually her mom finds her, still rooted to the spot, and yells at her for not returning her texts. As usual, she doesn't really mind the attention, since mom's usually so busy with phone calls and Sara's daycare and the media to really _look_ at her.

They stay for a whole week this time, and she finds herself at the memorial every day, telling Rachel about everything from Mom and Dad's fights to the Justin Beiber posters that now line her wall.

And when they return to the Days Inn each night, somehow she doesn't feel quite so stuck anymore.

* * *

iv. summer

Summer passes, and they don't visit the memorial at all. She grows a little taller, turns another year older. She's 13 now, the same age Rachel was when her life turned upside-down. She tries to put herself in her sister's place, sometimes, but whenever she does she keeps seeing herself in these romantic, heroic battles, and though it's a nice dream she knows from her cousin Jake that that's not the way things are at all.

It takes awhile, but she finally begins talking to her psychologist, who eventually diagnoses her with clinical depression and arranges a group meeting with her family. It doesn't go great, but it could be worse, she decides. Her grades slowly begin to rise back to A's and B's.

She talks to her psychologist a lot these days, and her mom and her dad, too. But the person she speaks to most is Rachel, every morning and every night when she opens her window and feels the warm, humid summer winds fill her room. She talks to Rachel more than she's talked to anyone in her life, her voice growing hoarse before she surrenders to sleep each night. And maybe she's stupid, maybe she's crazy, but sometimes, Rachel talks back.

* * *

v. autumn

It's mid-autumn before they visit the memorial stone again, and she thinks she's doing okay. Her new teachers are nice, her gymnastic classes are going well. Sara puts some flowers on Rachel's grave, and the family sits in silence, enjoying each other's company. Her mother takes her hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away.

She's never been Mommy's Baby (that was always Sara), or Daddy's Little Girl (Rachel, always Rachel), and she's never been the big sister, or even the little sister. But as they sit before Rachel's Stone, she suddenly feels whole. Complete.

When her family gets up to leave, she leaves with them, pausing only to look back at the faded rock with all its cracks and crevices. "Thank you," she murmurs quietly. Then, louder, "Thank you."

Jordan looks up at the stars, and smiles.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I'm just cranking out stories like a machine, now! I guess a year without out writing can really do something to a person, eh? I even have the next *two* chapters of Elfangor's Son already written, just waiting to be posted.**

**Anyway, I've always been sort of fascinated by the character of Jordan Berenson, and Rachel's family as a whole. There are so many things to use to make her an actual character- her parents' divorce, her Jewish heritage, her older sister- but she was mostly ignored in the series. And her age seems to keep wandering; one moment she's like ten, and then next she's acting eight years old.**

**But enough of my musing. Please tell me what you think!  
**


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